The Special Day
by Sawyer Fan
Summary: The League has spent a year together, and Sawyer wants it to be a special day. What could possibly go wrong? What indeed. Complete
1. Default Chapter

This is a story I wrote celebrating the first year of a LXG yahoogroup I'm on.  It has two parts and just a bit of fun.

Rated PG for language and action

I don't own anything concerning LXG or it's characters.

A special thanks to Paula and Sarah from my LXG group!  Hey Ladies!

Special hellos to Ten and Clez, and eveyone else who wrote to comment on my stories.

And yes, I will update LXG 2 in the near future.  Been involved in a fic challenge.  Sorry it's taken so long!

THE SPECIAL DAY

"Thomas, sit down and stop fidgeting about the place," Allan Quatermain said in a chiding tone towards the young man whose impatient wanderings was keeping him from his reading.

Special Agent Tom Sawyer, of the American Secret Service, shrugged his shoulders. He looked at his mentor and the leader of "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" smiling. "Aren't you the least bit curious?"

The renown hunter and adventurer sighed, reluctantly placing his book down. He would get no peace unless he quelled whatever has gotten into the boy's mind this time. "Bond will tell us shortly what he wants," Allan replied, speaking of Campion Bond, the new head of British intelligence and their usual liaison for dangerous missions. "I, for one, can wait a day before rushing into another '_save the world_' situation."

"But if we're to save the world...why wait a day?" Tom persisted eagerly. His hazel eyes danced in animation. "And especially call us all together on that very day?"

"What are you talking about, lad?" Quatermain frowned at the sudden look of disappointment that crossed the handsome spy's face. It was similar to the looks his wives had given him when he had forgotten an anniversary or birthday. It wasn't Sawyer's birthday, that was a few months away.

"You don't remember," Sawyer answered for the adventurer, stuffing his hands into his pockets, and turning towards the open porthole on the submersible sea craft, the Nautilus.

"Son, I'm an old man, and I do forget things...," Quatermain said in response, trying to soothe things over.

Sawyer shook his head dismissively "It's nothin'."

With an irritated huff, Quatermain stiffly rose from his seat, directly placing himself in front of the young man. "I have heard those two words uttered more times than I care to remember...," he said brusquely. "You bloody know it's something...so you better say it!"

"Tomorrow...it'll be a year tomorrow," Tom replied.

"What's been a year?"

"The League."

Placing his hands behind his back, Allan rocked back once on his boot heels. So that was it. "You think this meeting tomorrow is about that?" The old hunter let out a soft chuckle. "I don't think Bond is the least bit interested. Why should he be?"

Picking up on the tinge of sarcasm in Quatermain's question, Tom guessed his mentor and father figure wasn't interested either. He thought it was a very special day...a day that brought them all together to form this League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. It sure as hell meant something to him!

"Why shouldn't he be?" Sawyer chose to respond. "I mean, if it wasn't for us...there'd be total chaos right now, Venice would be in the sea, and M would be in control."

"And that's why we were formed, Sawyer," Allan reminded the spy. "It's our job. All Bond and the other world governments see is someone to save their arse." Patting his young protege on the shoulder, Quatermain returned to his seat. "I seriously doubt if we'll receive a proper thank you. Does your government throw you some sort of party or something?"

"No," Tom answered in a flat tone, "they don't...but they're bosses...."

Allan laughed out loud. "And Bond isn't?" Seeing the sheepish expression on Sawyer's flushed cheeks, the adventurer regretted his bit of fun at the boy's expense. "They should show a bit of gratitude, but other than a few words or some monetary compensation, they don't give a damn."

Tilting his head towards the discarded book, Sawyer offered an unfelt smile. "Sorry I bothered you, Allan," he spoke quietly, beginning to leave the room.

The hunter caught the young man's arm before he could leave the area. "You're never a bother, and if I ever hear you utter an asinine comment like that again...I'm throwing you over my knee!"

A grin formed on Tom's full mouth. "Wouldn't want to throw out your back...."

"What?" Quatermain blustered, rising from his chair. He could only smile when he watched the young man's quickly retreating backside. "I'll show you one day I'm not too old to handle the likes of you, Thomas Sawyer!" the seasoned hunter threatened without the usual bite.

His blonde haired protege gone, Allan settled back down in his plush chair, picking his book back up. After re-reading the same passage three times, he sighed while closing the novel. Had it been a year all ready? It seemed like only yesterday they had been assembled, going after a madman known as the Fantom, only to discover that he was the very man who had recruited them. It was all a ruse to utilize their special abilities for an evil purpose, but in the end...the League was victorious.

Looking back to where Sawyer had ambled from view, the adventurer began to realize the boy's point. They had become a family of sorts, complete with their share of sibling fights and antics...and in Sawyer's case...he had found a surrogate son.

Smacking his hand on the hardcover book, Quatermain made up his mind. If the lad thought the League should have a celebration in honor of their first year together...than dammit...he was going to get it.

"Skinner!" Allan called out in the seemingly empty room. "Show yourself!"

"How'd you know?" former thief, Rodney Skinner asked in awe, finding a hat nearby to allow one area of visibility on his otherwise invisible form.

"Heard your snickering," Quatermain said smugly, not wishing to get on the topic of how he could smell the invisible snoop as well. "Now, since you overheard my conversation...what are we going to do about it?"

"I'm sorry, Allan," Rodney replied in his thick, cockney accent, "old habits die hard. I'll be a better gent...honest."

"No...no...the boy! What are we going to do about Sawyer?"

"I thought the threat of a whack on his bum was a good answer."

His dark brows furrowing, he scowled at the hat, since there was no face to see underneath it. "I want to throw a surprise party...."

This brought a chuckle from the invisible rogue. "You would know all about surprises wouldn't you? Coming back from the dead like you did."

"I want you to sneak in and see the others," Allan ordered, "but don't tell Sawyer anything, he's the one I'm going to surprise."

The hat moved back and forth in mid-air. "Sounded like he expected Bond to throw the party," Skinner concluded, "and he's almost as nosey as me...how are we going to keep something like that from him?"

"By keeping him busy," Quatermain countered, a smile on his weathered, but still handsome face. "Now go summon the others while I find something for the lad to do."

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Back inside his cabin, Tom pulled out a worn, extra-sized book full of newspaper clippings his Aunt Polly had collected of his adventures over the years. Flipping towards the back of it, he found the new articles he had collected himself of the League's exploits.

A soft smile lit his winsome features as he thought back to how he had joined this motley band of misfits. It had started with the murder of his best friend, Huckleberry Finn, by the hands of the Fantom, that ultimately led to him to fight alongside the League. His only goal was to destroy the Fantom and avenge his friend's death, but in the end he had found a group of unique individuals who had grown to become an extended family.

Closing the thick book, he placed it back inside the white storage locker at the foot of his bed, and then flopped himself upon the mattress. He couldn't let this momentous occasion go by without doing something! Wracking his brain, he finally found the answer, a big grin encompassing his mouth. It always worked wonders when he was a kid back in Missouri.

Captain Nemo, Mrs. Mina Harker, Dr. Henry Jekyll, Dorian Gray, and Rodney Skinner snuck quietly inside the deepest hold of the submarine, glancing furtively around for a certain American youth who could spoil everything. Quatermain had orchestrated the meeting, seeing to it himself that Sawyer's attention was diverted elsewhere.

"This is pointless," Dorian Gray huffed irritably. "I don't see the need to throw a party just because that juvenile wants one."

"Aw, c'mon, Gray," Skinner said, elbowing the dashing immortal, "you didn't hear the poor kid. Tomorrow means a lot to him...what's the harm?"

Rolling his liquid, brown eyes in a dramatic fashion, he snorted, "I can see it all now...all of us seated together, festive decorations everywhere, maybe even a cake." He waved his right arm in a sweeping gesture. "Tom walks in, his eyes growing misty over the thoughtfulness of his friends, fumbling for words to speak."

"I think it'll be wonderful," vampiress Mina Harker chimed in.

"It'll be embarrassing," Dorian hissed. "You expect me to watch him open and close his mouth like an ignorant fool? Something will probably fly in, he'll choke and die..and for what?"

"Can't you show any concern for what Tom might like?" Dr. Henry Jekyll remarked coldly. "Sawyer's as much a part of this League as any one of us. He's the one who holds us together in a way."

"Kind of like a pesky baby brother," Skinner chuckled. "He annoys the living hell out of you one minute, but you're willing to do anything for him the next."

Mina laughed at the analogy. "I guess that is one way of looking at it, Rodney. He is a lot like a younger brother. We could be considered an odd sort of family unit."

Sashaying up close to the beautiful half-vampire, Skinner winked behind his dark glasses, his paint covered face showing a lustful sneer. "Now you on the other hand, Mina," he crooned, "I see as the naughty Aunt...." He was rewarded by a hard shove that sent him sailing backwards into a metal pipe. "We can discuss it privately some time, Auntie...," he recovered with a smile.

"If that ever occurs," Mina said curtly, "be assured you won't survive!"

"Oooo...going to be that good, eh?" Rodney jabbed, rubbing his hands together.

"Skinner, shut up!" Allan Quatermain barked, coming up to the group.

"Is young Sawyer...occupied?" Captain Nemo asked with a hint of a smile under his heavy beard and mustache.

"No, he's napping," Quatermain answered.

"Sawyer?" Henry seemed amazed by this concept. "Do you think he might be coming down with something? Maybe I should visit him to make sure."

"There...we have it...he's sick, so no party," Dorian offered with a relieved grin.

"A party might perk the kid up," Skinner pointed out.

"Or make him sicker," Dorian added. He did not want a stupid party! It was bad enough he had to kowtow to the American agent for his continued immortality, but now he had to throw him a celebration?

"I checked on him," Allan interrupted. "Think he was so wound up last night thinking about the anniversary that he didn't sleep much."

"I suggest we get started before his rest is over," Nemo suggested. "We have a lot to cover in twenty-four hours."

Giving the group a sly smile, Quatermain nodded. "Then the party is on."

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Figuring the coast was clear, Sawyer threw off his light blanket, quickly replacing his shoes on his feet. He thought Quatermain bought his lame excuse for a nap, but he better hurry in case the old hunter decided to check on him again. At least the idea of him not feeling well was planted in Quatermain's mind.

Opening one of the portholes in his cabin, Tom shimmed through the round hole, carefully climbing sideways outside the Nautilus, using other portholes to latch onto. With his agility and youthful speed, he was at his desired destination in a few minutes. Tapping on the glass window, Sawyer caught the attention of Nemo's head chef, Anonin.

The India native smiled at the young man on the other side of his kitchen, all too familiar with Sawyer's climbing expeditions. Sneaking a tasty treat this early in the day?

"You just had breakfast," Anonin chastised as he allowed Tom to crawl through his porthole. "Can't be hungry so soon?"

"I really need your help on somethin', Ani," Sawyer began, his hazel eyes big and pleading. "Do you know anythin' 'bout makin' them fancy cakes like you see at weddin's and stuff?"

"I have studied under some of the greatest pastry chefs in Europe," Anonin said with a tinge of pride. "What do you need of a cake such as that?"

"Well, it's a year tomorrow that the League was formed...and I want to surprise the others with a big fancy cake and all the trimmin's." Sawyer shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged sheepishly. "I know it's askin' a lot at such short notice, but I gotta make 'em see how important tomorrow truly is. Can you help me, Ani?"

With a slight sigh, the tall chef smiled and nodded. "For my best eater, I will do my best."

Sawyer eagerly shook the chef's hand in gratitude. "I can't thank you 'nuff, Ani! Don't worry, I'll be here to help out tomorrow myself."

"How will you keep it from the others?"

"There's a big meetin' tomorrow in London, so I'll figure out a way to stay behind, and we can have everythin' ready for when they come back," Tom explained with great bravado. He paused and looked again at the chef with pleading eyes. "Is there any way you can kinda make everyone's favorite dish? Or maybe their second favorite? I'm more'n willin' to help fix 'em."

The chef laughed. "All those different scents will surely mask the smell of the cake! I will see what I can do, Mr. Thomas." He patted the young spy on the shoulder and turned to leave. "But stay out of my kitchen...otherwise there would be nothing left to serve."

Thanking the chef once more, Tom climbed back through the window he entered, making his way as quickly as possible back to his quarters before someone came to check on him.

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"Are we agreed then?" Quatermain asked the group. "When we get done with the meeting with Bond, we'll walk right into a nice surprise for the lad."

"I will go arrange it with Aninon immediately," Nemo said in parting.

"And I'll go see how Sawyer's doing," Allan added, also making his exit. The other three League members exchanged glances and left the dark hold, each with their own missions.

He had just kicked off his shoes and climbed back into his bed when he heard the soft tap on his door. Burying himself under the extra blanket on top of his bed, Sawyer answered in his sleepiest voice, "Who's there?"

"It's me, son," Allan replied, quietly entering the room. Seeing the blonde agent still in the same position he had left him in, the elderly adventurer placed a fatherly hand on the youth's forehead, checking for any sign of fever. The boy's cheeks did look a little flushed, and he had obviously been sweating. "You feeling all right, Thomas?"

Slowly lifting his tousled head from the pillow in great dramatic fashion, Sawyer barely peeled his eyes open. "I'm just a bit tired," he half-whispered.

Fearing his young protege was getting sick, Quatermain frowned. "Maybe I should get Dr. Jekyll...."

Resisting the urge to bolt up in alarm, Tom calmed himself. "Don't feel like upchuckin' or anythin'," he provided in explanation, "just wore out a mite."

"I will be keeping a close watch on you," Quatermain warned, pulling the blanket up closer to Sawyer's chin.

"Thanks," Tom said, snuggling further into his pillows as he shut his eyes. "I'll be fine...."

Having fulfilled his paternal duty, Allan ruffled the boy's longish, shaggy hair in parting. "I'll let you rest," he spoke in his unique, Scottish tinged voice.

Closing the door softly behind him, Quatermain hurried to find Jekyll and Nemo. If Sawyer was getting ill, that would put a damper on everything. As much as it bothered him to think it, he hoped the boy was just a bit down over the lack of enthusiasm over tomorrow. The party would erase any disappointment Tom was feeling now.

As if on cue, Captain Nemo almost collided with the explorer in the hallway, his mind occupied by something. Upon seeing the person they were seeking, each man began to open their mouth, instantly closing them when they saw the other had something to say as well. After a brief moment of silence, Quatermain gestured for the Captain to speak first.

"I have bad news on the cake end," Nemo admitted. "I just spoke to Anonin, he doesn't think we would be able to hide the fact a cake is being made from our young comrade."

The hunter frowned; the chef was absolutely right. "Thomas can smell sugary concoctions a mile away," he grumbled. "I think the boy might be coming down with something as well."

"He seemed fine earlier," Nemo remembered.

"Yes, and I'm hoping it's a bit of disappointment that has him so down." Stroking his greying beard, Allan rethought his plans. "Maybe we can have Skinner and Mina get a cake in London, and have it delivered after the meeting? If Sawyer is sick, we can delay the party a day. Anonin can put the cake in the freezer hold, and it should stay fresh a bit longer."

"I think that would do nicely," Nemo nodded in agreement. "I shall seek out Mrs. Harker and Mr. Skinner immediately."

"Thank you, Nemo," Allan replied. "I'm off to find Jekyll. If the boy's not feeling well, maybe our good doctor will have something to fix him up." The two men parted ways, and rushed to tie up any loose ends concerning the party.


	2. Part two

**Part two**

Allan awoke bright and early, and headed straight for Sawyer's room. Tapping faintly on the ornate door, he pushed it open a little when no one responded within. Hoping to see the bed empty; a sign that the American spy was already up and around, he instead found his young protege still sound asleep.

Instantly his hand reached out, feeling the young man's forehead and cheeks. Tom did seem a bit warm, but that could be from the blankets. When the boy didn't stir from the touch of his calloused hand, Quatermain's brow creased in worry. Dr. Jekyll had assured him last night that the blonde agent wasn't running a fever, and if anything, might be suffering from a twenty-four hour type of bug. The hunter was so bent on his thoughts that he didn't notice a pair of hazel eyes lazily opening.

"Allan?" a soft, Southern drawl greeted the adventurer.

"It's time to get up and get ready for the meeting," Quatermain spoke quietly, still studying the young man for any worsening symptoms.

Sawyer didn't respond, closing his eyes with a sigh. He felt bad for his deception, but Allan and the others would understand once they saw the festivities he planned to surprise them with.

"That's it, I'm getting Jekyll," the hunter said as he began to leave.

"I'm...I'm just tuckered out," Sawyer insisted weakly. He slowly pulled off his covers, and feigned sluggish movements in his effort to sit up.

"No you don't, Thomas...," Quatermain chastised, forcibly pushing the American back down on the mattress. "You are not leaving this room or this bed."

"But the meetin'..."

"I'll tell you all about it." The seasoned explorer winked. "Maybe even make Mrs. Harker take notes. She was a secretary at one time."

Tom smiled. "You want her to throw you across the room or somethin'?" With her vampire powers, Mina had the strength of twenty men. The young agent could envision her handily tossing the hunter like he was a twig for another insensitive 'male' remark.

Watching his blonde protege snuggle back under his covers, Allan began to worry that the boy might be sicker than he was letting on. "You know, I might just stay behind myself..."

Tom suppressed a groan. This wasn't part of the plan! "You have to go, you're the leader. I'm the one not needed."

"That's not true," Quatermain began to protest.

"What is it ol' Bondy says? Is that one of your unique, but totally unnecessary remarks, Mr. Sawyer?" Tom mocked the stuffy and portly master spy, Campion Bond.

The hunter found himself smiling. It was obvious the head of British intelligence was less than thrilled sometimes over Sawyer's youthful outbursts. "Still...I think someone should be here, just in case."

"What trouble can I get into?" Sawyer asked innocently. "Stuck in bed, sleepin' the mornin' away?"

One dark brow raised questioningly. "If this was anyone else we were discussing," Quatermain said in an overly serious tone, "I'd think nothing of it. I've never met anyone who gets into as much trouble as you."

"But I'm worth every bit of it," Tom teased with a forced yawn.

The remark caused the older man to chuckle, and Allan gave the blonde mop of hair a gentle tap. "A little reprieve here and there from your misadventures would be very welcome too."

"I'll work on it," Sawyer replied sleepily, "but someone has to keep you on your toes."

"You certainly deliver on that end," the seasoned explorer laughed softly. "Now go back to sleep, and as soon as the meeting's over, I'll be back to see how you're feeling."

Nodding slowly, the young secret agent curled up in a pretend effort of going back to sleep, uttering a soft 'thank you' to the retreating adventurer.

Before closing the door, Quatermain smiled warmly at the resting spy. "Happy first year, son," he whispered.

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"How's our kid brother doing?" Skinner asked the famed hunter as Quatermain entered the dining room.

Giving the former thief a quizzical look, Allan took his seat at the end of the table. Kid brother? "He's still a bit tired, but looks better than yesterday," he answered the group.

"Then we can go ahead with the party?" Jekyll asked hopefully.

"I think so. I told him to stay in bed and rest this morning while we go to the meeting."

"You're not seriously thinking of leaving that child behind...alone?" Dorian muttered in shock.

"He's sleeping, Gray," Quatermain said tersely. "He'll be here on the Nautilus with all of Nemo's crew to watch over him. The boy will be perfectly safe."

"Ha!" the dashing immortal snorted. "We're talking Sawyer here. The whelp's a human magnet for trouble. I say we drag him out of bed and make sure he can't cause any chaos by keeping him in our sights."

"Dorian! You're heartless," Mina growled in response. "I think Mr. Q is right, Tom will be safer here than anywhere else."

"He needs to recover from whatever small virus he picked up," Dr. Jekyll pointed out. "A good rest will do wonders."

"I'm so comforted," Dorian mocked snidely. The aristocrat's brooding was lifted with the arrival of Nemo's head chef, Anonin, who came into the dinning area with a large tray filled with various donuts, danish, and other creme filled delicacies.

The chef smiled in satisfaction. He had kept the baking of the cake secret by making these breakfast treats; their aroma blending in perfectly. The captain had wanted Sawyer's favorite dish made, and sugary goodies like these were preferred by the young man. A tempting precursor to the feast that lay ahead.

"It's a shame Tom can't be here to enjoy this," Henry said somewhat guiltily.

"I will bring him some a bit later, Sir," Anonin offered. "Eating a few of these will give him some energy again."

Taking a bite of his danish, Gray frowned. It was bad enough there was to be that dreaded party, but now add a sugar filled Sawyer? A vision of the youth vomiting on his tailored suit caused the immortal to lose his appetite. Would his suffering with this American ever end?

Quatermain eyed Mina and Skinner. "Is everything set?"

"Yes," Mina answered with a warm smile. "We talked to the baker, and all we have to do is stop by after the meeting, and he and his men will bring the cake over to the Nautilus."

Allan nodded his head in approval. A nagging doubt still festered in his mind, but he pushed it aside as being over protective...something the others have accused him of being more than once concerning Sawyer. They were on the Nautilus, the most dangerous weapon in the world. The adventurer hid the smile playing on his mouth. If anyone was stupid enough to try and board the submarine, they'd have more than their hands full with Tom Sawyer...sick or not!

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"Mr. Sawyer?" Anonin asked as he cautiously opened the door to the Tom's cabin. "Are you ready to..." His words were cut off by the sudden appearance of the young spy who greeted him with wide, eager eyes.

"They gone?" Receiving an answer in the form of a nod, Sawyer loudly let out an exhale of air. "It's about time! Was beginnin' to think they'd never leave!" Rushing out of his room, the Secret Service agent stopped in the middle of the hallway...a familiar aroma filling his nostrils. He whirled around and smiled at the head chef. "Hey...that isn't...?"

Laughing, Anonin beckoned the younger man to go forward. "I had to mask the smell of the cake baking."

"Ani, you're a genius!" Tom grinned, rubbing his stomach in anticipation of the fluffy, cream filled pastries awaiting him. "You also can't decorate with an empty stomach."

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Out on the East London docks, a man dressed in old, weathered, seaman garb watched the odd group of six leave the huge craft and climb into a strange form of transportation. Only six? The man knew who these people were...they were the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Where was the seventh, and youngest member? A smile lit under his heavy mustache. So, he would get to meet the irrepressible Tom Sawyer face to face.

"Kaleb?" a voice asked the stranger.

The newcomer had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't see the arrival of Nemo's first mate. Recovering quickly, the stranger shook hands and grinned. "Yes, Sir! My name's Kaleb." For added proof, he handed the second in command some papers.

"Captain Nemo himself checked on your relationship to Mr. Ishmael," the first mate said. "Was pleased to know you were first cousins, and a fine seaman yourself. The Captain only wants the best for his crew."

"You have no idea how much being on this magnificent craft means to me," Kaleb replied almost gleefully. "From all the letters cousin Ishmael sent me, it's like I've been sailing on her for years."

"The letters you allowed the Captain to read gave him great comfort. He misses your cousin, as do we all. His courage and ingenuity had led us out of many dangerous situations." The first mate smiled and gestured for the newest crew member to follow him aboard. "I have many things to show you, and when the Captain returns, he will no doubt like to speak with you as well."

Kaleb had to stop himself from running inside. He couldn't believe how things had turned so dramatically in his favor, and when the rest of the League returned, they too would realize it.

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As soon as they had entered inside Campion Bond's elegant office, Quatermain's instincts flew into overdrive. The portly, master spy for British Intelligence was watching their arrival anxiously, and when the youngest member didn't materialize, Bond immediately wanted to know where Agent Sawyer was.

"All right, Bond...no games," Allan said tersely. This was no reaction to the boy missing out on a special occasion. "Is there some sort of danger?"

"I'm afraid there might be," Bond admitted with a sigh. "We have intelligence that someone has been going to great lengths to become a crew member aboard the Nautilus."

"I screen every one of my men," Nemo insisted. "I only go by the highest of recommendations from people I know and trust."

"Has anyone requested to become a crewman recently?" Bond asked.

"Yes, but he's Ishmael's cousin..."

"Have you met this man before? In Ishmael's presence?"

"No, but he has documents to back up his claims, letters from Ishmael himself..."

"Forgeries," Bond said dismissively.

"How do you know that?" Quatermain demanded, his gut tightening in worry.

"This man has been knocking on the doors of every known forger in London the past few weeks," the British spy answered. "Documents and letters in particular."

"Is there any clues to the man's identity?" Mrs. Harker queried.

"We strongly believe it could be Moriarty himself." A collective shock fell upon the group as each member thought about the consequences of Bond's revelations.

Jekyll's apprehensive voice broke through. "When is this '_cousin_' supposed to arrive, Nemo?"

The captain lowered his head. He was so careful...checked everything. Could this man be M himself? Had he been duped so easily? "He should be arriving at any day now," Nemo finally replied.

"Thomas...," Allan said in almost an exhale.

Instantly the others joined the hunter as they raced out the office and towards the automobile. Across the way was the bakery that Mina and Skinner had visited the day before. Seeing the owner standing in the big display window of his shop, and watching the League leave hastily, Skinner waved his arms back and forth dramatically over his shaking head. No cake for now!

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Kaleb looked down at the unconscious body of the first mate, finally glad to be rid of him. He had hoped for a more graceful exit, but the babbling fool wouldn't stop '_showing' _him around the ship. As if he gave a damn! The prize he craved was somewhere in residential section of the submarine, and he was worth more to him than even the Nautilus. Fate had allowed his hand to strike now instead of gaining the League's trust before unfurling his revenge.

This would be such a day of infamy that the League and the world would never recover.

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"Ani! It's fantastic!" Sawyer cried out while munching on his third creme filled donut. The tiered cake sat majestically at the end of the table, it's sugary decorations a work of art. Tom had to admit he had never seen a cake so fancy before...even at the richer weddings. Stepping back, the young spy viewed the whole room. It sure looked nice, but he wasn't quite satisfied yet. Picking up a few festive paper streamers, he began to pace around the dining area to find the perfect spot to put them.

Anonin watched the agent as he shook his head and smiled over the young man's enthusiasm. "I'll leave you to your work, Mr. Sawyer," he said in parting.

Sawyer stopped and gave the older man a big grin. "I can't begin to thank you enough for this..."

"You have thanked me many times over, Mr. Sawyer," Anonin chuckled. "I too think this is a special occasion. The ship has certainly come to life again with you and the others on board." Closing the double doors behind him haphazardly, the head chef didn't notice that the handles hadn't locked in place, allowing the doors to be slightly ajar.

In a shadowy corner of the hallway, Kaleb watched the tall man's leaving with interest. Who was behind those doors? Making sure the coast was clear, the pseudo crewman crept closer, his blue eyes dancing with excitement when he peered through the crack between the doors.

The young man's back was to him, but the sinister imposter knew that blonde, shaggy cut hair anywhere. Special Agent Tom Sawyer was only mere inches away from his grasp! Kaleb turned away and quelled his rapid breathing as he slowly pulled out a Bowie knife from the folds of his uniform. He would rush the boy from behind, placing the knife to his throat to make him obey. The man smiled wickedly at the thought. It would definitely bring back memories for both of them.

Once his captive was secured, he would abscond with the American, using him as bait to lure the rest of the League to their doom. He would save Quatermain for last, letting him have the pleasure of watching his '_second son_' die a slow, agonizing death. Literally having to stop himself from laughing out loud due to sheer anticipation, Kaleb readied his knife and pushed the door open a bit further.

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The car skidded to a hasty stop in front of the Nautilus, the occupants piling out as fast as they could manage. If Campion Bond was correct, M could be walking around the corridors at that very moment, and it would only be a matter of time before the evil mastermind discovered Sawyer's presence on board.

Nemo searched for his first mate, an uneasy feeling hitting him as his faithful sailor remained unaccounted for. Stopping one of his many crewmen, the captain asked if any strangers had come aboard. His hope sank as he heard the mention of Kaleb's name. The possible murderer was on his Nautilus!

Rushing down the corridor towards Sawyer's cabin, he prayed he would find his young friend sleeping peacefully, but the look on Quatermain's face as he exited the room told Nemo the situation was truly dire.

Was the American agent already in M's clutches?

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Stepping back, Tom tilted his blonde head to the right, a pensive frown on his handsome features. He didn't like where the cake was sitting. The League would see it before they even entered the dining room, giving away his surprise before he could fully spring it on them. Carefully, he lifted the sides of the tray the confectionary masterpiece sat on, his goal to move it to a small side table in the corner of the room.

His knife slowly raised in the air, Kaleb crept through the doorway, his victim still unaware of his presence. In a matter of seconds his plan of ultimate retribution would begin.

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Anonin heard a faint groan to his left, alerting the chef to the first mate's crumpled form in a hidden corner of the hallway. As he crouched down to see if the crewman was all right, he heard the sound of hurried footsteps coming down the corridor, the anxious faces of the League coming into view seconds later.

"Anonin, what happened?" Nemo asked.

"I don't know, Sir," the head chef answered in confusion. "I just found him myself."

Jekyll bent down and examined the first mate. "Just a bump to the head," he announced. "He should be all right."

"Have you seen Thomas?" Allan interrupted, his hazel eyes scanning down the hallway.

"Yes...," Anonin hesitated, not wishing to give away the American's surprise party.

"Answer me, man!" Quatermain barked. "He could be in danger while we stand around here!"

Danger? The head chef could hear the worry in the old adventurer's voice, and decided to risk spoiling Sawyer's plans. "He is in the dining room." Rising with the injured first mate, Anonin watched the League hurry down the hall, wondering what had happened to cause all this disarray.

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An evil sneer lit upon Kaleb's face as he crept up behind Sawyer. The knife began it's journey towards the front of the young spy's neck...

Satisfied he had a firm hold of the tray, Tom began to turn around, taking great pains not to move too fast in fear of the cake falling to the floor...

_**Plop!**_

Two anguished cries broke out in unison inside the large room, echoing down the hallway as the rest of the League hurried towards the dining hall. One voice was undeniably American, and the other could only belong to the criminal mastermind known as M.

"I told you we shouldn't have left him alone!" Gray snarled as he picked up his pace. If anything happened to Sawyer, his days as an immortal were numbered.

Quatermain ignored the remark, his own mind recriminating himself over his lack of judgement. He should have stayed behind with the boy, pure and simple. He could only pray now that they weren't too late.

"Awwww...my cake!" Sawyer moaned as he viewed the confectionary mess on the floor.

"**You stupid, clumsy child!**"Kaleb screamed, wiping away the layers of cake and frosting now covering his upper half. His persistent clawing at his face undid the masterful make-up that had hid his identity so well, revealing Kaleb's true form.

Sawyer's mouth fell open in disbelief. "M?"

Smiling through smatterings of left-over blue and green frosting, M nodded, his cold eyes fixing fully upon his helpless prey. He laughed cruelly when he saw the American agent inch himself backwards, stopped by the presence of the dinning table.

"I normally detest cliches,"M taunted, "but resistance is futile." Advancing slowly towards Tom, the evil criminal held his knife out in front, enjoying the look of confusion and anxiety on the blonde's face. "Put your hands behind your ba-a-a-a-a-a-a-a...!"

Forgetting about the remainder of the cake that still lay upon the floor, M's icing slicked feet flew out behind him, sending the menacing figure once known as James Moriarty face first in the dilapidated pile of dessert.

"**_Aaaaaaauuuuuuurgh!" _**M bellowed in absolute fury, smacking his hands blindly on the floor, sending pieces of cake and icing flying around the immediate area.

His mouth fell open again as Sawyer watched the most evil criminal in the world literally throwing a tantrum! The shock turned to amusement as a soft chuckle escaped.

"**You dare laugh!" **M growled dangerously, wiping cake from his eyes. Feeling to his left, the fake shipman found his dropped weapon and carefully rose, waving his knife in the air in a bid for silence. Reaching inside his jacket, M pulled out some rope and repeated his demands. "Put your hands behind your back...now..."

Tom threw his head back and laughed.

Maddened by the lack of fear, M began to loose his composure. "**What is so damn funny? You are laughing at the man who can cause you great pain and suffering!"**

"With a cake server?" Tom grinned, pointing to the cake covered utensil in the cruel man's hand.

Stomping his foot vehemently, M began to search around frantically for his missing knife, Sawyer's belly laughs fueling his anger to the point of delirium.

"**Ah ha!" **Moriarty yelled wildly in triumph, finally holding his blade in his hands.

**Craaaaaaack!**

The doors to the dining room burst open wide, revealing the entrance of Dr. Jekyll's alter ego, Edward Hyde. The gigantic man rushed at M, while Quatermain dashed off to the left, his only goal to whisk Tom to safety. Mina and Dorian took the right side of the room, with Skinner and Nemo following behind Hyde.

Snagging his protege's right arm, Quatermain managed to pull Sawyer out of harm's way seconds before Hyde was sent flying at a dizzying speed into M's backside as his shoe slid in a pile of sugary goop.

"Mummy...," M whimpered as he turned to see a massive wall of deformed flesh heading straight towards him.

Quatermain pushed the American agent to the farthest wall of the dining room, using his body to shield Sawyer from any danger. He trusted the others to cover his exposed back. "Are you alright, son?" he asked, noting Tom was clutching his middle and gasping for air. His question went unanswered as the sickening sound of flesh hitting something solid assaulted the adventurer's hearing.

Hyde collided with the solidly built dining table, his body smashing it in two. Everything Tom had spent the morning placing on the table instantly went up into the air, the force of the behemoth's landing acting like a catapult.

A plate full of different kinds of finger foods hit the invisible man straight in the face, propelling his body backwards as he raced to backup Quatermain.

"Skinner!" Nemo cried out in shock before being broadsided by a platter of shrimp covered in sauce.

A crystal bowl full of punch sailed over Dorian's head, dumping the liquid on the immortal as it continued towards Mina, who had taken flight above the others for a better fighting advantage.

The vampiric beauty smiled in relief when she narrowly avoided the flying glass object, but her moment of inattention caused her to get tangled up in Sawyer's heavily strewn banners and streamers. She came crashing down to earth upon the other end of the broken table, launching Hyde up like a see saw effect, and sending him back into Nemo and Skinner.

"My future children!" Skinner cried out in agony as his enormous teammate landed on him and the captain.

Dutifully, Quatermain kept Sawyer protected through the battle, his own body being pelted by various airborne objects in the effort, but it didn't matter as long as the boy was safe. In a matter of seconds the ruckus died down, and the explorer chanced turning around, the weathered features transfixing into a look or horror.

The room was in a complete shambles, and the League sat in the midst of it. Nemo and Skinner squirmed to free themselves from under Hyde's form, their bodies covered in food and icing. Dorian stood immobile on the other side of the room, his brown eyes wide with repulsion as red punch dripped from his soaked head and expensive clothing. Mina had fared no better, her auburn hair a tangled mess as she tore at the various streamers wrapped around her body while her crushed velvet dress sat in a pile of mutilated appetizers.

Before he would allow Sawyer past his body, Allan searched the room for the man who had caused all this...M. Hearing a weak groan coming from the direction of Hyde, the adventurer found himself grinning a little.

Noticing Allan was looking at him, the gigantic Hyde gave a big smile, showing off his crooked teeth. "I think I might've squashed him," he offered in explanation as he literally peeled M's crumpled body off his stomach. The evil mastermind twitched like a stomped bug, his eyes bulging out of their sockets as they stared out into nothing.

"What in hell happened?" Tom uttered as he squirmed past Quatermain. Taking in the destroyed food and decorations, the spy ran his hands through his blonde hair in frustration. "My party's ruined!"

"Your...party?" Dorian asked, his voice dripping with venom. "I am soaking wet...and red, because you threw yourself a party?"

Throwing the immortal a glare, Sawyer stiffened. "No, I was wantin' to surprise you when you got back."

"You were throwing '_us_' a surprise party?" Skinner inquired, giving himself a quick feel up to make sure all his parts were still there.

"I wanted you all to see how special this day was...," Tom muttered sheepishly. "I pretended to be sick so I could stay behind and prepare everythin'."

The hunter placed both hands on the agent's shoulders. "Not to sound ungrateful, lad, but you could've been captured or worse. The meeting with Bond was about M trying to pose as a shipman to weasel his way on board. We rushed back as soon as we heard."

"Didn't mean to worry you," Sawyer offered, lowering his head. "Huh.., my so called party fell flatter than the cake did."

"I got pretty flat too," Rodney jested. "How 'bout you, Nemo?"

The captain found himself smiling as he tried to wipe off some of the shrimp sauce. "This was certainly a '_surprise_'."

Hungrily licking the frosting off his large fingers, Hyde shrugged. "Some of the cake is still edible." Hearing a collective groan from the others, the man-monster greedily clutched a handful of the smashed desert, and stuffed it in his mouth. "More for me," he laughed naughtily.

Seconds later the room was filled with Nemo's shipmates, who drug the criminal mastermind from the Nautilus, and into a waiting paddy wagon. Bond stood out on the dock, waving back at the League who were watching the arrest of Moriarty through the port holes. The tubby master spy did a double take as some of the members appeared odder than usual in their appearances. Was Gray red? Shaking his head, Bond decided not to investigate, happy with the capture of the Napoleon of Crime.

"Captain Nemo?" Anonin interrupted with a confused glance behind him. "There is a gentleman here who insists he has a delivery for you..."

"Bloody hell, the cake!" Skinner remembered. "I thought I made it clear not to bring it yet."

Sawyer's head shot up eagerly. "A cake?"

"Thank you, Skinner," Allan growled behind him, before turning back to his surrogate son. The adventurer threw his arms out to his sides in futility, frowning in disgust when dollops of food and desert fell off his coat and onto the floor. "It was supposed to be surprise..."

"I had no idea...," Sawyer fumbled for words, his face flushing a soft shade of pink.

"Of course not," Gray snarled, "you were too busy planning your own party...which I am wearing."

The London baker rolled the elegant cake in on a cart, his eyes widening in shock and amazement at the sight that greeted his view. "What happened?"

"Sawyer happened," Gray muttered, receiving a glare of death from Quatermain.

"Seems the party started without us," Allan offered with a shrug of his large shoulders. "Thank you for bringing the cake."

As he stood in front of the extravagant desert, Tom's blush grew deeper. "I don't know how to thank you for this..."

"You can start by joining us," Allan winked, coming up behind the spy.

"What?" The hazel eyes flew open in surprise when he felt himself being flung half-way into the air, landing in the middle of the cake. The blonde agent flicked off pieces of cake and frosting from his face as the others howled in laughter.

"Now you're just as surprised as we were!" Quatermain crowed in triumph.

"I'll drink to that!" Rodney cheered, squeezing a few drops of punch from Dorian's jacket into a glass.

The American agent burst out into laughter and began to throw cake at the others, starting a massive food fight.

The baker's face transfixed into a look of repulsion as he exited the dinning room. He thought the man with the pure white face and the pale woman were odd, but he had no idea how odd! What kind of celebration did they call this? It was lunacy in his book! Shouts of 'happy anniversary' echoed from the room as the man hurried back to the safety of the docks.

Yes, it was sheer lunacy.

THE END


End file.
